Without Love
by LilyIsAwesomerThanYou
Summary: Without love what do we really have? Edward left Bella broken in the forest, and she doesn't know how to cope. But when she finds everything Edward hid under the loose floorboard, her life changes. T for depression. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**In celebration of the repair of my laptop, which my dad dropped a fire poker on and broke in January. -_- But anyway, it's finally fixed, so I wrote this in the car! :) Just a short chappie to start this story off. Not quite sure how long I'm going to make this sooo**

**I don't own Twilight.**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

It had been three months since I had seen Edward. Three painful months in which I tried everything to keep from merely thinking his name. God knows I tried everything to keep the pain at a minimum. Charlie was too wary to try to get me to do anything, so I was left to myself.

One particularly rainy morning I made breakfast for Charlie like always. He had always been a simple man, but for our mutual benefits I made pancakes. He mocked a groan, hoping for anything—just a reaction of any kind—from me, but there was nothing. He ate quickly without complaint, then looked at me carefully before he walked out the door.

"Please, Bella. Do something today, anything. For me." I avoided his gaze and walked upstairs. Charlie sighed and left quietly.

But his words rang true, and they hit home. I hadn't truly done anything since Edward had left me broken in the forest. Sure, I had kept my grades up; in fact, they were higher than they had ever been. But even I felt like I was overcompensating. The entire house was meticulously clean.

As I walked up the stairs, I began panicking. I really didn't have anything to do today, and idleness would just make me think of him. I threw open the door to my room in search of something to occupy myself with and, in my hurry, tripped over a loose board in the floor and hit my head on the corner of my bed, knocking myself out.

When I awoke, it was dark. Blood pooled around my head and I smelled it with unfaltering certainty, the stench pounding through my brain and causing me to roll over and promptly empty my stomach all over my bedroom floor, sick mixing revoltingly with blood on the hardwood.

And then I heard Charlie's arrival. The slam of the front door brought a shred of sanity back into my bleeding head.

"Bells? What's for dinner? Do I need to go to the diner?"

I was too weak to answer him. I pleaded silently in my head. _Please, Daddy. Please help me._

He hung up his belt and clomped up the stairs. Through my pain-filled haze, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He had forgotten to take his boots off. Again.

"Bells?" He had reached my door and, seeing the light off, pushed it open. He stepped forward but quickly stopped when he stepped in a puddle of wetness. He instantly turned the light on and saw the small pool of blood around my head. "_BELLA! Oh my God!_"

I struggled to stay conscious while Charlie called an ambulance. They were at the house quickly, and I screamed and retched again when they lifted me from the ground onto a stretcher. My blood began to stain the sheets. I watched wearily as the paramedics worked at a frantic pace. It couldn't be _that_ bad, could it? I had only hit my head.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was unloaded quickly. Yelling voices swirled around me, disturbing my peace of mind and filling it with a pounding pain. I cried out.

The last thing I saw before I succumbed to unconsciousness was the familiar aged face of Dr. Gerandy. I had never seen him look so concerned.

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><p><strong>Errr... not the most uplifting thing, but I think you knew that when you clicked on it. Review please, and flame if you REALLY want to. jk I don't care, just tell me what you think XD<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Lucky, lucky, aren't you? :P Lol no, I'm just somewhat excited for this story. I really thought of what I want to do so I'm writing as much as I can before I lose inspiration. Yes, it happens. :/ Anyways, I was already up and decided to just post another chapter. This one is longer, but still rather short. Enjoy!**

**I definitely still don't own Twilight. Not even at 3 in the morning.**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

The soft beeping of the heart monitor awakened me. I moved my head and fought back a wave of nausea.

"Bella!" came Charlie's relieved voice. "Thank God you're awake." He grabbed my hand, and I noticed the IV with an annoyed glance. Charlie almost laughed. "That's my girl!"

"Dad, what happened?" I felt an old memory stirring, one I wanted to remember but at the same time was fighting to hold back. It rose to the surface anyway, and I recalled lying in a hospital bed in Phoenix, asking my mother the same question. I winced, trying not to think of the faces that memory conjured n my head. Charlie noticed.

"Are you in pain? I can get the doctor."

The answer I wanted to give was _Hell yeah_ but I settled with "Not much. Don't worry, it's tolerable."

His familiar grin made me reflexively smile back, and I realized that through this injury, I had found a lost piece of myself. When Edward had left, it was if he had shattered me and scattered the pieces everywhere. Suddenly, I was finding pieces of myself and putting them back together like a puzzle. But it was different, like I had found a completely new piece along with the old, a part of me that I had never even realized existed. And that kind of scared me.

"As for what happened, Bells, we're trying to figure that out ourselves. What do you remember? The best semblance of the event we can construe is that you tripped over God-knows-what —"

"Shocker," I murmured, causing Charlie's small grin to light up the room again.

"— and hit your head on the edge of the bed," he finished. I thought back to the last few moments before I had fallen.

"I was going to find something to do, like you asked, but I fell. The next I can remember is when you got home."

Charlie sighed. "Okay. I'll go get Dr. Gerandy." He left the room.

I knew it was wrong to wish for a certain tall blond doctor to whisk around the corner, but I couldn't help hoping. When I honestly disappointed when the older man showed up, I silently scolded myself for being so stupid. Wishing for something so impossible was useless.

"Well, Bella," the doctor began, picking up my chart. "We were all very worried about you, but everything seems to be coming along just fine. You had a severe concussion and minor damage to your left eye. I assume you can see fine out of it now? You were out for quite a while, giving it plenty of time to heal." He shined a small light in my eyes. "Look here. Good, thank you."

"When am I allowed to leave, Doctor?" I asked nervously. Hospitals gave me chills.

"Tomorrow, if everything continues to go along smoothly." He smiled warmly. "Well, I've got to make my rounds again. I'll check on you again before I leave tonight. Get lots of rest, and you should be home tomorrow."

I nodded earnestly, wincing at the sharp pain in my head. Dr. Gerandy noticed and promised to be right back. When he returned he had more clear liquid for my IV.

"Just a little morphine," he assured me and Charlie before hooking it up. By the time he left, the painkiller was already starting to take effect, and I was seeing the world through half-lidded eyes.

When Dr. Gerandy stopped in on me the next day, he determined I was ready to go home. I discovered, rather shockingly, that it had been a week since my accident.

Dr. Gerandy handed me a bottle of Vicodin for the pain and I pocketed it happily. I hated pills, but this headache was killing me.

Charlie drove me home, and once there, I told him I was going to bed. He let me go without complaint and I slowly made my way up the stairs, trying to ignore the pounding in my brain.

Once in my room, I changed into a tank top and sweats and was about to collapse onto my bed when I remembered the board I had tripped on.

I got down on the floor and searched until I found it. With a groan, I pulled up the floorboard, vaguely thinking in the back of my mind of Harry Potter, how he stashed all these sweets and his wand in a loose floorboard under his bed. But when I got the board out of the floor, I was shocked by what was inside, and I gasped loudly. It couldn't be. He had promised.

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><p><strong>Review, please! Seriously, it makes my day and inspires me to write quicker. :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Aha! Another chapter! :) ... while I should really be doing my homework.**

**I definitely still don't own Twilight.**

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

My thin fingers fumbled with the contents of the small box beneath the floorboard. I opened it, and was shocked at what spilled out. The CD in the jeweled case that I had received for my birthday, two plane tickets to Florida, all of the pictures I had taken. It shocked me. What had happened to "It will be as if I never existed"? Was that all a joke? Or maybe, just maybe, a little piece of my mind whispered, he wanted to leave something for you to remember him by. But I pushed it away bitterly.

I had begun to be uncertain whether my life with him was reality or just a dream. Vampires were an illogical, generally unaccepted concept in the modern world. And suddenly, I had met a coven of seven of them. It didn't seem quite possible, and I was honestly beginning to question my own sanity.

But the inhumanly beautiful warm smiling face chased away every thought I'd ever had that it might have been a dream. It seemed impossible that a photograph could capture such beauty and I vowed to keep it close to my heart.

Then I truly remembered everything the way it had happened. I didn't just see my amazing, smiling boyfriend. I saw my lying _ex_-boyfriend, telling me he was leaving. I saw myself chasing him into the woods, and giving up when I tripped and fell onto the damp forest floor. I saw the past three months of my life without him. And that was where the bitterness set in.

I held the photograph poised between my fingers, ready to rip it to shreds. But I quickly realized I could never do that. He could hurt me over and over but I couldn't destroy something so beautiful. It was almost like asking me to burn the actual Edward. It wasn't possible and I wouldn't do it. So I silently set the photograph back down. Tears filled my eyes and I picked up the stiff paper that told me, in fine print, that it vouched for two round-trip plane tickets to Florida. Before I thought about it, I ran the edge of the paper over my finger hard, and felt a slice of pain where the paper ran. When I took it away there was a single drop of blood like the single drop of blood that had taken my boyfriend away from me. It was simple enough, and it made sense.

With a wild passion burning in my eyes, I nearly ran to the bathroom and grabbed a razor from the cabinet. With a grunt I stepped on it hard, effectively smashing it and exposing the sharp silver blades. I grabbed one, experimentally running it along my arm. When I red line and more blood followed, I moved the razor and made another line, deeper this time. I cut over and over, reveling in the life the cool blade gave me as it pressed against my skin, the freedom the warm blood made me feel as it dripped down my skin. And then I threw the blade away from me, disgusted with myself.

He had asked me not to do anything dangerous or reckless, and cutting certainly fell into that category. How could I do that to Charlie? To myself?

The pictures had no right to affect me in that manner. What had I turned to? Had I become a follower of the fruitless practice that led so many to the path of suicide? I shuddered, disgusted with myself.

But as I stood to retrieve the scattered razor blades, I thought about it. I didn't know what life would be like tomorrow, or the next day. All I knew was that he would be gone. So instead of throwing them away, I stuffed the bloody blades in a drawer.

The pictures and other items were scattered all over the floor. As I knelt to organize them, I found myself trying to avoid the tickling feeling of the blood of multiple cuts running down my arm and trickling onto the floor. With a resigned sigh, I stuffed them all back under the floorboard, damning myself to another day of this worthless life.

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><p><strong>Hmmm... reviews, anyone?<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey look - another chapter! :) Yes, it is 4:15am and yes, I am still up. This is essentially just a filler chapter. I have come up with an actual legitimate, amazing(well so I think ;) plot to the story and will therefore be able to get into longer, more complicated chappies :)**

**No, I still don't own Twilight.**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

I put thought into my clothes the next morning, the first time I had done so in three months. I had to hide the cuts, and clothing was the best way I knew how. I grabbed a long sleeved, baby blue v-neck and slipped it on. Pain laced up my arm when I hit the cuts, but I ignored it. I deserved it.

I ran downstairs and grabbed a bagel, throwing my hair up in a messy ponytail on the way to my truck. The engine was as loud as ever, and I avoided looking at the gaping hole where the stereo should have been.

Once at school, my day went smoothly. Before Gym, I remembered the fierce red lines on my arms and approached Coach Clapp. I lied and told him I was feeling sick. He easily fell for the excuse and let me sit out. Relieved, I pulled out my Calculus homework that I had neglected the night before.

That night, Charlie refused to let me cook, saying that I had been through too much trouble throughout the week. However, he immediately burned the steak and I took over, salvaging most of the meat and whipping up some potatoes. He smiled sheepishly and we ate in silence.

After washing the dishes I scampered upstairs, eager to be alone. As soon as my bedroom door was closed, I removed the floorboard and pulled out the pictures and the CD. I put it in my stereo and let the soft piano music swirl around me.

The tears flowing down my cheeks dripped onto the picture, distorting his face. I sniffled, wiping the droplet away and imagining his pale fingers dancing across the keys. My mind took me to a day just over a year ago, when he took me to his house and introduced me to his family. While we were there, he sat down and played the piano for me, starting with a melody he had written for me. I had cried then too.

I felt numb. There was always the pain—the hole in my chest that threatened to rip me to bits every second of the day—but sometimes it was different, almost like I wasn't even there. People had gotten so used to my non-responsive attitude that they ignored me altogether, and that honestly bothered me more than it should have. Lit was just another thing I deserved. My gaze landed on the drawer next to my bed.

I grabbed the blades from the night before and stared at them hard for a few moments. With a shaky sigh, I drew a red line across my skin again. Would this interminable cycle ever end? And the tears fell like rain.

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><p><strong>How many times do I have to ask for reviews? It makes my day, er night, er YEAH! ;D<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh um... hey. I'm not dead, I think. And this is a really short chapter. And I'm sorry. And I feel bad. And I'm tired. And I'm depressed. And I still haven't done my homework for tomorrow. well crap.**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own it, god dammit.**

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months. I honestly didn't know where the time had gone, but I knew life was different. I was _living_. I was aware of the soft tick of the second hand on the school clock, on the smell of the heater when I turned on my truck and let my hair dry, of the feeling of the warm water cascading down my back in the shower. I knew the footsteps of someone walking behind me, the sound of someone scraping their chair along the cafeteria floor, the unique drone of each teacher's voice. I knew the scratch of pen on paper, the clacking of the old-fashioned typewriter in the school office, and the sound of rain hitting the roof of the buildings. But most of all, I knew _him_– his face, and his family, and him playing the piano. It still hurt like hell, but I was living. And that was something new.

I had broken free of my zombie-like trance. Charlie was more than happy—thrilled even—but I still politely refused his offers to take me fishing with him on Saturday mornings. I wasn't _that_ much different. Realistically, I felt guilty, guilty beyond measure that it took this to wake me up. Was I so far gone that it took physical pain for me to start living again? But I didn't care that I broke my promise to Edward, because he had broken his promises to me.

It wasn't as if I was perfect, or that everything was great. I was depressed; every waking minute hurt. Every time I thought of his name, or his face, or his smile, the pain came rushing back, punching a ragged hole in my chest and then tearing at the edges with a rusty knife. It _hurt._ And I couldn't stop it. So I settled down and cried myself to sleep every night, gently caressing my arms with the razor blades that had become like a drug to me.

I could never tell Charlie, or any of my friends for that matter. They would think I was crazy. And if _he _ever found out. I shuddered at the thought. He was go insane. But that was then and this was now.

_He's not coming back._

I let the words hit me, taking deep, ragged breaths. I couldn't control when the pain hit, but I could try to control my reaction. Because this hurt. But no one was allowed to see.

I sat in bed, the comforter wrapped around my shoulders, clutching my arms to my chest. My cuts stung, my head pounded, and my chest ached. And I screamed. I screamed at the walls, at the sky, at _him_. And I reveled in the silence that followed.

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><p><strong>Yeah.<strong>


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